How to Escape Your Life
by jordijoon
Summary: “A rebellious stage? You’ve been controlling my entire life for the past...well, forever! I’d hardly say that this is a stage!” Draco is leaving, and it's up to Hermione to bring him back. Absurd and philosophical.
1. Can't say bomb on an airplane

**Blanket Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. Or J.K. Rowling. Also, this fic is not meant to be a realistic representation of the aforementioned Rowling, and her character is based on nothing but the fact that she wrote the Harry Potter books.

PG-13 for language.

a/n: So, second fic! A lot more dialogue in this one. Um, it might be confusing at first, but keep reading and hopefully the intent will come through. Also, there will probably be incongruity in the slang, as I am neither infallible nor British.

* * *

**Chapter One**

Draco Malfoy wants out. He's played his part so well over the years, from snobbish aristocratic bully to bigoted brooding trainwreck, but really, enough is enough, you know? Fuck Lucius, fuck Voldemort, fuck Harry-fucking-Potter. He is through. That's why he left the manor last night and booked a flight to Katmandu, which he is boarding as we speak.

Well, would be boarding, if he knew what he was doing.

"ID, please."

"What?"

"ID."

"Right…titchy muggles...Hello, Dee. I Draco. I want go plane, fly Katmandu."

"No, I need to see your identification card!"

"Oh! Right…um…shit." He rummaged through his pockets. "Will this do?"

"…Apparition license? Is this some kind of a joke?"

"Can you just give me the ticket, please?"

"Hmm. Alright, Mr.….Malfoy. Do you have any luggage?"

"Yes, right here."

"A trunk? Let's see…my apologies, Mr. Malfoy, but this trunk is 9 kilos overweight. If you would like to ship it on this flight, you'll have to pay a fee."

"A fee? Well, how much is it?"

"42 pounds."

"Bugger!" She scowled at his language. "What have I got…30 galleons and a knut…"

"Is that gold? Are you trying to bribe me?"

"What? No!"

"Oh, really? What have you got in your trunk that's so important, hmm? I won't be bribed, you know. I've got some integrity, at least...is that real gold?"

"It's not for you!"

She sniffed irritably. "So what's in the trunk? What are you hiding?"

"What are you on about, I never-"

"I thought your name sounded dodgy. Malfoy, huh. Now, let's just open it up and have a look-see."

"Don't!" He leaned forward and whispered. "It might explode."

"What, have you got a bomb?"

"A bomb? What's a bomb?"

"Well don't shout, now you've got everyone going." Around them, people were in various stages of panic, some edging slowly away while others scampered towards the doors, screeching absurdly. Loud sirens rent the air.

"What in hell is going on?"

"Well, I expect that will be the police. You really should know better than to try and smuggle bombs onto the airplane. I can't say I'm surprised; your manners are terrible, and 'Draco Malfoy' is one of the most made-up sounding names I've ever heard."

"It's my _real_ name!"

"And I'm the queen, God save her."

A burly man in uniform swaggered over to stand behind Draco. "What seems to be the problem, miss?"

"He told me that he has a bomb!"

"For the last time, what is a bomb?"

"Well, he said his trunk would explode, anyhow."

"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to arrest you, sir. Miss, since you are the witness, would you mind accompanying me to the station?"

"Certainly, officer."

* * *

Draco didn't know what police were exactly, but he found out. Draco hated the police. And the cold, boring cell they had put him in. And the large, heavily tattooed man staring at him from the bed. Draco wished very much that he hadn't left his wand in his trunk, although it probably wouldn't help since the police-men took everything out of his pockets. 

He jumped when he heard a door creaking open, and the tattooed man leered at him stupidly. The officer from the airport walked down the hall to their cell.

"Draco Malfoy? Come with me for questioning."

Draco leapt up hurriedly, eyeing his cell mate as he sidled out of the barred door.

The policeman led him down a long hall, to a room with a glass window through which he could see the airline woman sitting at a table, restlessly joggling her foot.

They walked into the room, and the officer motioned Draco to sit.

"Now, miss, would you please recount to me exactly what happened?"

"If I must. This has all been most traumatizing, you realize."

"Of course."

"Well, I though that he seemed a bit crazed at first; he called me 'Dee' and spoke like some jungle heathen. Then he gave me a fake ID card, I'm sure of it now. He called himself Draco Malfoy. Has he revealed to you his true identity yet?"

"I already told you-"

"Please refrain from speaking until she has finished, Mr. Malfoy."

"I see he's sticking to his story. Anyway, he put a great hulking trunk on the scale. It looked old and expensive, maybe antique. Probably stolen."

"Hey!"

"Back to the story. It was too heavy and I informed him of the fee, whereupon he pulled out a bunch of gold coins and started counting them out suggestively, trying to bribe me into letting his trunk on the plane. I wouldn't take it, though, and I told him so. Ethics and all. Then, I got real suspicious, and I asked him what was inside, and he told me not to open it because it was a bomb!"

"I did not!"

"Well, he said as much, so I pulled the emergency lever, and then he started shouting his head off about bombs and agitating the other customers. It was quite upsetting. Then you came and cuffed him up, and I must say I was ever so relieved. You know the rest." She smiled smugly.

"Is there anything else you would like to add?"

"No, officer. I've said my part and now I'll trust in the law to exact judgment upon this…scoundrel."

Draco glared at the woman.

"Well, miss, you seem to be an upright citizen. If that is all, you may leave."

"Thank you, officer. I've had a very stressful day."

The officer turned to Draco after the woman left. "Well, that should have gotten her off of our backs. Don't worry, Mr. Malfoy. We've been informed of the situation by your publisher, who is waiting in the other room. Shall I go and get her?"

"No!"

"Well, I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice, Draco," snapped an irritated dark-haired woman as she walked through the door. "You need our representation as it's the only thing getting you out of this mess. Now, officer, I understand you still have a few questions for my client?"

"Just one. Mr. Malfoy, why did you tell that woman that your trunk would explode?"

"It was just a standard locking charm! No one is meant to open it but me."

"Hmm. Alright, then. Considering the circumstances, we'll let you off with a warning. Just be careful about using magic and carrying around magical objects, especially if you plan on leaving our jurisdiction." He left the room.

"It's not my fault that twit tried to open the trunk, I told her not to!"

"Draco, this is precisely why you should have informed us of your intentions. You seriously endangered yourself and others by leaving so abruptly, and with so little knowledge of the real world!"

"Annette, you only care about me because I'm worth money to you." Cue a sulk.

"Don't be so immature. Of course I care about you as a person, but this is my job. You're worth millions, millions that would have gone down the drain if you had been injured or killed! Jesus, Draco, it took us forever to find you!"

"It would have taken you even longer if Rowling hadn't of given us this blasted wizarding currency."

"Speaking of Rowling…She's on the phone. She wants to talk to you."

He was incensed. "What if I don't want to talk to her?"

"She's your author! You really should be a bit more respectful. Here, she's been waiting for a while."

Draco grudgingly accepted the phone while Annette ushered the police officer out of the room.

On the line, an all-too-familiar voice spoke.

"Draco, is that you?"

"Unfortunately."

"Oh, I was so worried! What were you trying to do?"

He rolled his eyes. "Leave."

"But why?"

"Because."

"Draco, don't be short with me! I created you!"

"Yeah, well, I didn't ask to be created!"

She snorted. "Is that what this is about? You're going through a rebellious stage?"

"A _rebellious stage?_ You've been controlling my entire life for the past-well, forever! I'd hardly say that this is a _stage_!"

"It's alright, Draco. Most teenagers go through this; it's nothing to be embarrassed about. I'm just glad that we found you. When are you coming back?"

"Never."

"Don't be childish. I'll send a cab and you can come back tonight."

"No, really. I'm not coming back."

"Where are you going to go, then?" Her tone suggested that he had nowhere.

"Away from you."

"But Draco, you're essential to the plot of book seven!"

"Does it sound like I care?"

"You really are just a spoiled brat, aren't you?"

"I am what you made me."

She sighed. "Oh, Draco…What am I supposed to do?"

"Just leave me alone! That's all I want."

"I can't. You're a primary character. What's it going to take for you to come back?"

"I honestly don't think I will."

"Ever? You're done for good? You can't just leave! This is your whole life! This is your destiny, your purpose! You can't leave me…" She seemed somewhat hurt, and Draco felt a twinge of guilt crawling along his neck.

"Look, just…let me go for a little while, without calling to nag me or anything. I'm definitely not coming back right now. Just let me be alone for a bit. And then, I'll…I'll think about it."

"You're really serious about this."

"Yeah."

She sighed. "I'm not happy about it."

"I know."

"Just…I guess, be careful, okay?"

"Okay."

"Will you call and check in with me once in a while so I know you're alright?"

He cringed. "Sure, I guess."

"Okay. Look; I'll have Annette get you a cell phone and a debit card, and I'll put some money into an account for you, so you won't starve or anything. She'll explain how it works."

"Thank you. Really."

"Do you know what you'll do?"

"Travel around a bit, I guess. Try to figure some stuff out."

"I don't want this to be a permanent thing."

"We'll see. I'll call you in a few days, maybe. Thanks again." He meant it.

"Alright, Draco. Goodbye."

* * *

a/n: Sorry, I know it's short. I'll try and have the next chapter out within the week. Hermione will be entering the plot soon. In the mean time, review and tell me what you think! 


	2. Something's wrong

Chapter Two

Draco should have known better than to get too comfortable with his newfound freedom. While his author was sticking with her promise to give him some space, his publisher had no qualms about nagging him at least once an hour. Annette had employed his friends and family to call, trying to convince him to return. He had been pleaded with by Blaise, berated by his mother, enticed by Pansy. Even Vincent had tried; that had been an enlightening conversation.

Not.

He knew Annette was desperate when he got a call from Ron Weasley.

"Shut your ugly face, Weasel, I'm not coming back."

Ron growled. "Look, Ferret, I don't like you, but…well…even though you're a nasty git, you're necessary."

Draco smirked, and then realised that Ron couldn't see it; he settled for a sarcastic drawl. "It's so nice to know I'm appreciated, but that owl has flown. Now, put Annette on the line and go, I dunno, slobber over Granger."

He heard angry grumbling and muffled whispers, and then "What if she isn't here?"

"Umm, slobber over Potter, I guess. Oh wait, you mean...put her on, idiot."

Annette's voice grated over the line irritably. "Draco? Are you finished with your little game yet?"

"It's not a game! And stop calling me."

"I'm getting really tired of this."

"Well I'm sick of being hounded by a bloody publishing company! I never want to hear from you again."

"I know you don't mean that. You're in Katmandu now, right?"

"Maybe."

"What if I send someone over to see you? To help talk you through this."

He pondered for a moment.

"I've already spoken with most everyone. If those blundering idiots couldn't change my mind, I don't know who you think will."

"You just leave that to me. I'll have you back here in a week."

"Yeah, whatever."

* * *

Something was wrong.

Hermione felt free, more relaxed than she could ever remember. She no longer worried about school. She no longer worried about anything, really; all of the stress in her life had disappeared.

It was eerie.

Nothing was happening. Life had been flowing along, and she had been enjoying the summer hols, when all of a sudden...nothing. She felt her motivaton slacken, and the days began to ooze around her with the viscosity of glass. Which means, very slowly.

At first she thought it was typical summer melancholy; she hadn't seen Harry or Ron in a while, and there was nothing good on the telly, and she had read each of her books at least twice before. Boredom was understandable. But this was more than boredom; there really was nothing to do. It was almost like living in a time warp. She began to realize the gravity of the situation when her mother didn't go to work.

"Mum, why are you still home?"

Mrs. Granger looked puzzled. "Oh...am I? Umm, I dunno. I just don't feel up to pulling teeth today, I suppose."

This was highly suspicious. Mrs. Granger loved her work, and hated to stay home even when she was sick. She also never spoke in vague terms or used filler expressions like 'I dunno.' Hermione decided then that it was time to talk to someone.

She waited a week after owling Harry and Ron without any reply before she tried Dumbledore. He didn't answer either.

That's when she called Scholastic to talk to Annette. Which was probably a mistake.

* * *

"You should go, Hermione. He needs someone who can challenge him, but can sympathize with his position as well. I think you're just the ticket."

"But he hates me! And I hate him!"

"Oh, I don't think that it's hate. It sounds more like friendly banter to me. He probably has a crush on you."

"Annette, have you read the books?"

"Well...no."

"Then I'd hardly say you have an authoritative opinion on the matter."

"Just trust me. It will be fine. I honestly can't think of anyone who'd be better."

"Is that saying something about me, or about Draco?"

"Perhaps a little of both. Just think; it would be a nice trip. You've never been to Katmandu before, have you?"

"In Nepal? No! Is that where he went? Why would he go to a poverty-stricken country whose main source of income is agriculture?"

"He was talking about shrines, anger wad or something like that."

"Angkor Wat? But that's in Cambodia...huh…Do you know why he left, exactly?

"Rowling said that he's going through a rebellious stage…it sounds like some kind of identity crisis. You know, this really could be a lovely trip, it sounds right up your alley. We'll pay in full, of course. You can fly out this evening."

"I…" She pondered the situation. She had always loathed Draco, and she didn't feel that he deserved to be treated as well as he had been, especially now that he was having what sounded like a whiny, spoiled fit, but still; this would be a nice opportunity to travel, and since Rowling stopped writing, she found that her hatred of him had abated some. It would be good to go ahead and get this last book over with as well, and the sooner Draco returned, the sooner they could get on with things. "Well, alright."

Her misgivings began with Annette's somewhat feral grin.

"Wonderful. I'll book the tickets right now."

* * *

a/n- So, things should be picking up in the next chapter. I'm hoping it will be kind of philosophical...a lot of this has been inspired by my philosophy class, which I _love._

Thanks to **blackXxXblossom**, **Book junkie from beyond**, and **tiedye** for reviewing! Seriously, it's really nice to get feedback.


	3. Cambodia

**Chapter 3**

It had been a good flight. The food was decent and the movies were romantic comedies that she hadn't seen before, which were cute if a bit superficial. It was kind of nice, just to sit down and watch a movie and be frivolous. She missed this normality...she loved Hogwarts and her friends and everything, but it could get a bit tiring sometimes, having to worry about dark wizards taking over the world and whether or not everyone whom she loved would live to see next Thursday. Looking out the window of the plane completely swept all thoughts of doom out of her mind, though...the view was breathtaking. Roads and buildings spider-webbed across the green of the valley, forming a crooked patchwork quilt of civilization. Enchanting. Her first thoughts as she stepped off of the plane and breathed in the rain-fresh air were something like, what the hell am I doing?

The unsettled feeling in her stomach increased on the taxi ride to the hotel, and was confirmed in the lobby when the receptionist assured her that, yes, Mr. Malfoy had stayed at this hotel, but he had checked out several days ago. And wasn't that just great. She should have known, should have been prepared for something like this to happen; it was Draco Malfoy she was dealing with after all, the same spoiled, inconsiderate prat who had plagued her since she was eleven. Well, she was sick of his shit. Hermione was angry.

* * *

Pick up pick up pick up. 

"Hello?"

Finally. "Annette."

"Hermione! How was your flight?"

"Where is Draco right now?"

"What do you mean? Is he out in the city? You can just check in and wait for him to get back."

What a joke. As if she couldn't have figured that out herself. "Draco is not at the hotel because he checked out three days ago. Now, do you have any idea why that might be or where he might have gone?"

"What? That's impossible!"

"Apparently not."

"I just talked to him the other night and he said he was there!"

"Well, he isn't."

"That little--I can't believe he would do this!"

"Oh, I can."

"After all that we've done for him! I've been much too lenient with that boy; it's made him big-headed."

"I don't think he needed any assistance in that department." She fumed quietly for a moment. "What should I do now?"

"I'm not sure...wait, let me think about this. His cellular should have a tracking device in it; we can just check that and figure out where he is, and then I'll arrange transportation for you, alright?"

She considered telling Annette that she'd rather just come back home and that Draco could have his little crisis all by himself, but then she decided that she really did want to see him, if only to give him a piece of her mind. "Sure. Call me when you've finished."

* * *

Cambodia was nice, for being poverty-stricken and all. Well, the roads sucked. There were lots of craters that looked suspiciously as if they had been caused by explosions, which, considering the country's recent political history, they probably had. 

Draco almost felt bad for leaving Nepal without telling anyone. Almost. He wondered in passing who Annette had sent to find him, and if they had figured out what had happened yet, before deciding that he didn't really care and it served them right. Speaking of Annette...he hadn't heard from her in a few days. Not that he was complaining. The silence was just kind of odd after her previous regimen of two to three phone calls an hour. He supposed he should be thankful...it was bad enough bouncing along in this beat-up passenger bus on the way to Siem Riep without being hounded by an over-strung publisher's representative with every third breath he took. He saw that they were coming to another stop, which was kind of bad because he was running out of pocket change and cough drops. Perhaps he would look for a store that sold candy so he would be able to restock.

The bus pulled to a stop next to an unruly gang of children, who immediately centered their attention on the doors. Draco knew the drill by now, and patted the bag of Hall's in his pocket before disembarking into the melee. The excited chatter engulfed him, and he cringed as he looked around at all of the tiny bodies. They were so thin.

Their speech was rapid and indecipherable, but they gestured excitedly and held out their hands. He pulled the bag out of his pocket and dispensed the cough drops among them. They fumbled with the plastic wrappers until he showed them how to pull from the sealed edge, and then laughed as they tasted the lemony flavor.

"You know, you could give them actual food." An old man in a monk's garb stood next to him; he spoke with a slight accent that Draco was unable to place.

"What's wrong with candy? Kids love candy!" If this guy was going to berate him for giving them sugar, then he wouldn't even mention that they were cough drops.

"Sure, but candy doesn't fill up hungry bellies. These children wouldn't even be here hounding you if they weren't starving; their presence is a result of the poverty of the land. If you bought real food from the local farmers, you would help the situation doubly, by actually nourishing the children and also by supporting their parents."

"Hmm, interesting theory. I'll think on that one." Screw you, old guy, no one tells Draco Malfoy what to do. But at the next stop, Draco purchased rice balls and fish instead of candy.

* * *

The hotel was surprisingly cozy. It was more of a large house with many bedrooms, but...it was functional. He dropped his trunk in his room and then decided to wash up, which turned into a 30 minute shower followed by a long nap. 

It was dark when he awoke, and he stumbled to the light switch only to be blinded when the lamp came on. He tripped around in disorientation and then decided to go downstairs to find some food. The hall light was even brighter than his lamp, and he had to sit down for a minute to adjust his eyes so he wouldn't fall. When he finally made it to the foyer, the clerk informed him that a table would be ready in ten minutes, and that he could wait in the parlor if he would like. So, the parlor it was.

Hmm...Cute-looking brunette over by the window. Could be promising. "Well, hello there."

"Oh hey, Malfoy."

"Granger? What the hell are you doing here?" No, seriously! How is it that he could travel to the other side of the continent and still run into her?

"I was waiting for you. Eww, were you chatting me up? Malfoy, that's beastly."

"As if I would!"

"You didn't even use a line! Bad form."

"Come on, Granger. You and I both know that_ if_ I were chatting you up--and I _wasn't_, but if I _had_ been--you would have fallen in a second."

"Not with that shoddy performance, I wouldn't have."

"What performance is needed? All I'd have to do is look at you the right way and you'd be drooling after me like the dog you are."

"Oh, please. You weren't so quick to insult a minute ago when you were chatting me up."

"I already told you--"

"Excuse me, sir?" The clerk addressed him. "The table is ready now. Follow me."

"Oh...ok. Granger, come along."

"Why don't you make me? All it will take is one look, right?"

"Yes, but I wouldn't want you to slobber all over the floor. It's uncouth."

"You could just ask me nicely."

Must she make this any more difficult? "Alright, Granger." He sighed heavily. "Will you please accompany me to dinner so that we may continue our conversation?"

"I will." Her smile made his stomach fluttery.

The clerk/waiter seated them at a table and took their orders of _khao poun_ and_ sach mon chha khnhei _before whisking away to the kitchen. He left behind him an awkward silence as boy stared at girl, who seemed to be fascinated by the rapid chatter of Italian tourists at a neighboring table.

Draco was kind of insulted by the fact that she apparently found speech that she couldn't understand to be more interesting than him, until she turned back and explained that she had been learning Italian last summer and thought it was a beautiful language. So, that was slightly less insulting. But still.

They lapsed into silence again as she stared dreamily away while Draco tried to recover from the shock of her presence, which had only just set in. Why had she come? He realized that he was wasting time, and he coughed discreetly in an unsuccessful attempt to gain her attention. This attempt was followed by another and another, each increasingly less subtle and more like laryngitis, until she jumped at his final hacking cough and inquired after his health. Which was not the issue at the moment.

"I'm fine, Granger. So, let's get down to business."

"To defeat...the Huns!"

"What?" He knew his jaw had to be hanging open.

"Oh, nothing. Just this song from a muggle film."

"Right. Granger, this is why the Dark Lord is trying to exterminate you lot."

"That's ridiculous! Voldemort does not hate muggleborns because of Mulan!"

"How do you know? Maybe this whole time he's felt left out of all of your little inside jokes and film-thingies." Because _he _sure does.

"Malfoy, come on." She was still skeptical.

"Which one of us has presumably had more experience with the reasoning behind hating muggles?"

"Well..."

"I'm kidding. He just thinks you're rancid filth. Anyhow, let's get on with it. Why are you here?"

"Annette asked me to come and talk to you."

"Why not over the phone, like that other lot? Surely it would have been much less expensive."

She laughed. "I have a feeling that this is petty cash in comparison to the royalties that Rowling will be getting from the seventh book alone. Anyway, phone calls were obviously ineffective."

"Obviously. So now they've had the bright idea to send you, since we're just best mates and surely you can bring me back, right?"

"Look, I'm not too chuffed to be here; don't think that I'm basking in the glow of your sneer."

"You think my sneer is glowing? I must say I'm flattered, Granger, if a bit disgusted."

"Oh sorry, did I say sneer? I meant the glare from your hair gel."

She was obviously having an off day. "Weak."

She blushed. "Look, so...why did you leave?"

"Merlin, how many times do I have to go over this? I'm sick of having my life planned out for me! I don't want to be a pawn in the convoluted plot of some stupid children's story!"

"What? That's absurd."

"All of this is a joke, you know! My life, your life, our world, all a sham. Not a very well-written one, either, from a literary perspective."

"It's really not so bad, Malfoy! I mean, we're one of the top sellers. We've created controversy and intrigue, and you especially have a huge fan base!"

"That's easy for you to say, Granger. I don't see _your_ character dying off any time soon, or being made to look like a fool and a coward."

"Well, I _have_ been in a lot of tight spaces, you know. My life has been in danger many times."

"Yeah, but she'd never let you _die_. She has to keep the female characters around. There aren't very many and that brick Weasley needs a love interest. It's not like there's anyone else who would have him."

"Ron and I--you--augh! Why do you have to be such an arse, Malfoy? Do you think it's easy to get on with your life when you have a great hulking pointy-faced git following you about all of the time, treating you like a sub-human? Because it's not! You're not an easy person to get on with; you're mean and hateful and rude and I'm sick of it! Besides, there's more to me than just a potential love interest for every male in the whole sodding story. Do you know how thin it spreads me and Ginny, being the only young and likeable female characters in a testosterone-driven world?"

"Yeah, I'll bet you have to spread pretty wide."

"That is just what I'm talking about! Does it make you that chuffed to make other's lives miserable? Are you that much of a sadist?"

"It's not like I chose to be this way, Granger! I didn't write myself! I didn't ask to have psycho parents that won't leave me be and are devout followers of some insane genocidal freak! Don't you get it? None of this is real! _We_ aren't real; we haven't done any of this for ourselves! We are essentially puppets, enacting the shoddy plots of some two-bit author who just wanted to pay the rent!"

"Right, blame it on someone else. It's anyone's fault but your own."

"How could it be my fault? I didn't choose this!"

"Not everything is about choice, Malfoy! None of us pick our families or our backgrounds. It's what you do with them that matters; you have to take responsibility."

A man at a neighboring table interjected. "Excuse me, but she has a point. In terms of existentialism, you create yourself through your actions, so you choose who you become."

"Not you again!"

It was the monk from the village. "Yes, me again."

"Hey, why are you talking about existentialism if you're Buddhist?"

"Well, it does have its merits. Also, I'm French. There has been a big existentialist movement in France in the last century, so it's something I grew up with."

"Fascinating." Yawn.

"If you're interested, you should look into it. I have a book I could give you. Perhaps it would assist you in your quest for truth."

"Thank you, that would be wonderful!"

Trust Granger to get excited about a stupid book. "But, give? It must be special to you. We couldn't possibly accept it."

"Nonsense. Detachment in all things, young sir."

Dammit. Existentialism it was, then.

* * *

a/n: Finally done with this chapter! It took me forever to figure out where I'm going with this. It's clearer now, though, so I should be posting more often. Hopefully. Oh, and Draco's disdainful attitude towards Rowling's literary prowess (or lack thereof, in this case) does not reflect my own views; all literary criticism aside, she tells a damn good story, as evidenced by the sales of her books. So, that's that. Hope you liked the chapter, and I'd love to hear your thoughts! 


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